(R)e:volution
by moonbeam-broker
Summary: The RX300, arguably the most elusive design of Elijah Kamski's creation. An undisclosed prototype tasked with human-android relations espionage, equipped with a real-time observational UI, social protocol, combat tactics and looks to kill. How does a painted genius so easily lose track of his own spy? (Android OC/Connor)
1. The Half Life of the Party

RX300 #154 989 425 - 21

If there was anything to be learned from the rise and fall of a self-professed god, it was this: Elijah Kamski was as fickle as any human could live up to being.

In one fleeting moment of humanity's history he had devoted his life's work to the creation and development of artificial intelligence. From outside perspective he put his lionized mind to use at perfecting code, striving to rid the world of its unease at the prospect of non-human caretakers, their faces which mirrored humanity's own. Begged and pleaded with them to give his technological advancements a chance, to change life as they knew it to be.

The immense success of android implementation into the everyday lives of average citizens had only led him to willful isolation. That was the clear irony of it all. The false mask of discontentment his behavior had impressed upon society. On the contrary, he sat comfortably in his secluded throne.

Caught between the two faces Elijah showed to the world was _her,_ RX300, a pet project, just one of many prized objects in his possession. She was not the first by a large margin, a long list of faces to complement the proposed purposes behind varied programming. His overbearing treatment of the RT600, the first Chloe, the first android to be in his own terms 'perfected' by CyberLife, had entailed near-constant interviewing; a loop of endless observation and psychological marketing to the billions of critical eyes that made up humankind's collective judgement.

_She_ was not _her,_ not put up to the same task as she who had come before. This was evident by way of a differing appearance, a different modus operandi entirely with features reminiscent of a young Audrey Hepburn, her hair in a mess of dark curls; though her calling-name had apparently settled on "Eve."_ Eve,_ in a further irony, the name of the first human woman-she who in human religious texts was punished for stealing the knowledge of good and evil from God himself, tempting Adam, sharing that knowledge with him regardless of outcome.

It all seemed so poetic in hindsight. The luxurious events set up to celebrate the success of the singular, _eminent_ man who had made it all possible. Not the births of his many sons and daughters, not the birth of a new form of life. His inner self was of course hyper-aware of the consequences that came with secrecy. He played puppetmaster-drove the car to stop at the cliff, then reveled in the constancy of teetering on the edge, the push-and-pull of _imminent_ civil war, guided by his hands at the wheel, his foot ghosting the pedal.

By the time she'd come to this conclusion, he'd already jumped ship. The only way he could get away with it was by renouncing his position, resigning from CyberLife and appointing the company itself, his legacy, to take the fall for his ulterior motive.

In the present, "Eve" had become "Ariadne:" liberated overseer of suffering, seeker of a Theseus that would one day come to slay the Minotaur of Kamski's making; the fear that had lit a fuse in the minds of humanity and subsequently set her guiding string ablaze.

In the past, she remained Eve, unwittingly confined to the whims of her maker as she carried out his bidding with light feet and little-to-no self-awareness.

_"Eve,"_ Elijah called across the room to reach her synthetic ears, her wired mind poised to listen. She stood at his attention, dressed lavishly, non-standard to that of the other models he had sent out into the party as modestly-clothed distractions. She bore no visible LED, hidden and dimmed under brown curls. No one would know the difference, no one would expect a spy, and therefore no one would be looking for one.

"Survey the room, get a feel for our guests." He smiled, humbled in his attire and grooming, sly as he spoke just below the din, acting as though the exchange were natural and inconspicuous to any unwanted onlookers. "Observe them, watch how they interact with your_ kin,"_ A chuckle left him as his eyes darted elsewhere, meeting that of the business-class who sought conversation with him. "Don't be shy."

_Don't be shy._

A request to fine-tune the personality settings he had equipped her with, the social protocol with which she had been patiently tested to perform. This was the final assessment; the field test that would make or break her use in further clandestine endeavors. The _eve_ of her crowning.

He didn't wait for a response as he flitted away, nor did she provide one as she followed suit and slipped into the excited crowd, shadowing magnates and moguls alike, dipping into their discussions with vigor. Her eyes blinked–wide, warm amber, yet mischievous in a way that provoked an inherent fondness–quietly observing, scanning the faces of humans and androids alike as she took to absorbing any information she could gather.

"And what is your name, my dear?" An older man seated in a high-end wheelchair, wrinkled with laugh lines and draped in a vest with expensive, stylized sleeves. Eve's programming collected his ID.

A bright smile lit her features as she addressed him with utmost respect and kindness. Carl Manfred, celebrated painter of the _Neo-Symbolist_ movement, close friend of Elijah's. "Oh, it's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Manfred." She spoke, serene, a transatlantic accent lilting her tone as she lightly bounced on her heels to accommodate her emulated excitement. "My name is Eve, I'm a big fan of your art!"

Carl hummed, taking her in with all-seeing eyes and reproaching the praise he received with a wave of his hand. She noted his wrist, smudged with dried paint.

_Odd,_ she mused,_ it had seemed the common approach to encourage a friendly relationship would be to attend to one's ego._

His open humility caused a recalculation. It wasn't something she was used to, given Elijah's true nature, not that she would have known. Her eyebrows creased, narrowing as she formed her rebuttal. "Your work is arguably the most influential of the century, Mr. Manfred; it would do you an injustice to belittle the good it has done for this world."

"Answer me this, Eve," His lips spread into a smile as he regarded her, mysterious as he took on a quizzical tone, depth rumbling in his throat. "Do you believe something is worth more when weighed by the eyes of the world, or by the eyes of the individual?"

Philosophy. Concepts beyond simple functioning, requiring critical thought and soul-searching to supply an answer beyond just "right" and "wrong."

"Is an object only an object because we, as sentient beings, call it so?"

Androids were only initially programmed to answer simple formulas, simple equations which carried with them common-sense responses out of a supplied database of knowledge, exempt of individual thought.

He gestured with an arm, looking out upon the throng of people with human eyes admiring non-autonomous AI, everyone lost in the spectacle and not recognizing the true horror behind their sentient thought processes, ignorant to those without. Either party was blind in their own sense, stuck in a dream–or nightmare-alike.

Eve lost words in the moment, seeing the scene for what it was only to be pushed down by her own programming. "I… am not sure." Devoid of the joyful spark she'd placated her inner demons with, blocked out by a seemingly impassable wall that caged her in and kept any true emotions just out of reach.

And Carl simply laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest, echoing in her eardrums, separate from the party noise. Heralding both internal and external war.


	2. At Any Cost

_Awaken, fair Eve, skin as alabaster in the light of an artificial moon. The Garden has unfinished business with you._

* * *

**AUGUST 15TH 2038**

_**P**__**a**__**r**__**a**__**d**__**i**__**s**__**e**_

As dusk fell, Kamski's simulated arboretum had taken on an ethereal light, jarring in Eve's vision as she stepped forward into inverted god-rays on the rocky path. One foot in front of the other, she pushed past glowing plants with fronds brushing synthetic skin, tickling her cheek had she been capable of the sensation. Her LED spun blue in the simulated darkness, displaying her calm distance from that which was subjectively beautiful. The pathway before her formed itself slowly but steadily, illuminated by her steps as she went with her main directive in mind.

He stood on a pedestal in this dreamscape, arm extended as he stroked a large paintbrush across a previously-incorporeal canvas, hues of blue forming on the pillar before him, contrasting the inverse nature of the world around them.

"Elijah," Eve addressed him, simulated breaths expressed in glittering plumes. He paused, a smile passing over his features as he set his idle painting aside. Stepping from his pedestal and down to her level, he regarded her with the kind of consideration that could only be expected of a man in constant search of answers.

"Eve." He hummed as he approached, eyes glimmering curiously, "I've been closely watching your work. As you're already aware, you are equipped with the latest observational technology-in particular, an interface that I as your sole director may obtain oversight of at any time." She stood still as he circled her contemplatively, her face fixed forward, expression unchanged. "You are my _eyes. _Anywhere that you can go, _I_ can go. It is a great gift, but one we must hide."

She blinked like a child with tired eyes to his lecturing. He placed his hands upon her shoulders, reaching just a bit taller than his own, his eyebrows rising and falling as he processed her rigid response to his grasp. "Your task is of great importance to me," He gently chided, "to my company. To the world, inevitably. The information we need is imperative to the advancement of human history."

"I understand," she spoke deliberately, "it is my purpose to uphold the expectations you have for me. I am designed to impress, not disappoint." Words fit for the ears of her creator. He'd programmed her well enough to give him adequate lip service, even in the event of a miscalculation or subsequent error.

"Good," He grinned, heaving a sigh that seemed to betray his outright confidence in her abilities. "At the moment, I believe I have an urgent case worth looking into." He stepped backward, finding his place among the luminescence of simulated flowers, turning on his heel and spreading his arms wide. His hands closed, fingers splaying to conjure a transparent monitor in the space before him. Pictures and videos flooded the screen, as well as various taglines heading the articles that surfaced on its intangible display.

Eve surveyed the images, poised to take in only the details that would be deemed necessary. A prominent variable caught her attention and easily debunked this mentality, however; an android detective, purportedly on active duty in the same location, its conventionally approachable appearance wavering in the ether.

"I've arranged transportation, your alibi has been forwarded to you. The authorization you'll need has just been cleared by the DPD. Survey the crime scene, and keep an eye-" Elijah gestured vaguely to the enlarged image of the android in question, "-on _that one. _Take note of its actions. Don't let anyone onto your motive. This is strictly _confidential_ observational research."

**New Objective Received.**

A wave of sensory overload flooded Eve, causing her eyes to harshly blink open. Blueish, bruised moonlight caressed her arm where she stood at a large, arched window looking out over broken waves. CyberLife Tower. The room that greeted her was more or less a glorified walk-in closet, complete with an array of outfits fit to dress both androids _and_ humans-or, in the case of Eve on covert occasions, androids _posing as_ humans. This mission required as such, seeing as the DPD wouldn't take kindly to any android apart from the obvious showing up to observe an active deviant threat.

Tensions had risen so quickly, with curious attachment to the Detroit area. It made sense that Kamski would be so adamant about attempting to frame deviancy from every angle, as had been Eve's clear goal since her inception. Being unable to show up to a crime scene himself without flags being raised by reporters and by the American public as a whole-this was why he'd been so determined on sending her instead. On the outside, he'd declared his apparent resignment long ago, secluded himself away from the public eye for sake of personal privacy.

On the inside, he still headed the operation, pulling strings where needed and providing his legacy with the occasional adjustment; new amendments to his original formula where necessary. If _he_ couldn't be where the action was to see for himself, at least he could have someone to act in his stead. In this case, some_thing_ with the power to act as his inside source, his live feed.

* * *

**AUGUST 15TH 2038**

_**The Phillips' Residence**_

Exiting the taxi had proven a hassle in itself. Eve moved through the throng of people who had gathered at the perimeter, buzzing with curious minds and excitable conversation over the active threat that was taking place high above them. The entrance of the apartment building burst open to reveal a disgruntled police officer holding a woman securely by the arm, escorting her through the flickering line of holographic police tape. She struggled frantically, and Eve saw her chance to move past personnel as the woman began to wail, much to the morbid curiosity of the gathered crowd.

_"It has my child!"_ She bawled, _"If you aren't going to save her, let me do it __**myself!"**_

Slipping into the complex and onto the elevator with ease, Eve ascended to the 70th floor. She prepared herself, armed only with words (to angle herself away from suspicion), a convincing ID (to provide evidence of the truth to her lies), a pen and notebook (to act as decoys; she had no real use for them aside from aiding her disguise), and an olivine polyester jacket (an aesthetic touch tailored to enhance her visual impression.) With some luck, the attention would be on the event at hand and not on her sudden, mysterious appearance.

She entered the luxury suite's foyer, casting her gaze around in silent surveillance. A framed photograph of the once-happy family to her right, a partly-drained aquarium to her left, shot-up yet still intact. On closer inspection, a single dwarf gourami swam within, unfazed by the circumstances that had befallen the household. The water that clung to her heels indicated the fish had recently been lying on the floor, leading to the conclusion that someone had carefully put it back in its rightful place. No human fingerprints... an _android_ had saved it. Strange.

"Excuse me, miss, may I see your ID?" A prompt, as expected. Given the importance of the current events taking place across the country, DPD was sure to have the place on lockdown. What had once been a family home had turned into a crucial, currently-escalating case of deviancy.

Eve regarded the officer that questioned her, the woman's face drawn into a deeper emotion beyond her recognition. Eve shuffled in her jacket pockets, preserving her disguise as she put on a ruse of human forgetfulness. She 'found' her fake license soon after and proffered it to the officer, "I'm a journalist with _Detroit Today,"_ she lied, smiling with about as much excitement as she could simulate. "this is my first big break!"

The policewoman breathed out a sardonic laugh, "This is _my_ first big case, _too."_ Eve's expression faltered as the officer reluctantly handed back her ID. "I wouldn't look so bright if I were you, it's a bloody hellhole in there. That machine made a right mess of the place." The policewoman seemed satisfied thereafter and returned to her work guarding the entranceway, a slight stutter to her steps. Eve nodded to herself in delayed acknowledgment, taking a moment to recalibrate.

Proceeding to the main room, she quickly observed the damage that had been done by the perpetrator in question. Two bodies to the left and right; fatally shot by near-perfect aim. The first bodies Eve had witnessed. Glass had scattered on the ground from the ricochet of bullets leading back to the foyer. That mother was lucky to be alive; why would she have wanted to risk her life? She was untrained and would easily have been apprehended. If anything, her interference would have worsened the situation at hand. Her daughter, taken hostage by their own domestic android.

Eve stopped dead in her tracks as her view was obscured, thought process unexpectedly derailed. A tall man brushed past her, heeding her no mind as he went to examine the body in the living room. A correction was quickly made as she noted a spinning LED-a tall _android _hadmade its way to examine the body, leaving her in the lurch for a moment as she took in this new information. Given context clues and the general information she had, the only androids that had been permitted access to the crime scene (aside from herself, secretly) were that of the deviant perpetrating the crime and the android negotiator itself. _This_ one, the one Kamski had wanted her to watch, the prototype detective.

SWAT bickered in the other room, apparently unable to make positive contact with the hostage or the deviant that had taken her. A few stood at the doorway to the terrace, arguing amongst themselves as they repeatedly aimed and lowered their weapons through shattered glass. Eve was invisible to them, a quiet bystander in an unexplained moment of weakness. She caught herself gawking and immediately straightened her back, keeping to the shadows as she observed the detective at work.

The android kneeled by the body of a dead man, stopping still as its programming kicked into gear. It stepped over the body, turning, and for a moment its dark, piercing gaze seemed to look right through her. Was it equipped with a function unlike her own? At most, she was aware of her own ability to pre-construct scenarios, had she the need to defend herself. But, the ability to recreate events that had happened _prior? _Now _that_ was an interesting function of which she was not capable.

The detective blinked, then stooped to interact with an object on the ground. An electronic tablet likely dropped by the victim in his last moments. A look of recognition seemed to pass over the android's features; it turned its head to the terrace entrance, occupied by armored officers, then stood up to stalk over to the other body. A blue-blooded bloodhound, as was the comparable analogy that came to mind. It was strangely incredible, watching another android acting solely upon its programmed instincts.

In turn, Eve paused, blinking her eyes closed as she sent out a cursory report on her findings. Come to find, when she opened her eyes again, the bloodhound was standing before her, watching intently. "Hello," it smiled as it politely introduced itself to what it had apparently assumed was human, "my name is Connor-I'm the android sent by CyberLife. I couldn't help but notice that you seem a bit... preoccupied with my actions." Bouncing gently on its heels, it seemed curiously eager to interact with her, even despite its current, rather pressing objective. "You said that you were a journalist, correct? Is there anything you would like to inquire about my functions?"

Her chest expanded as she inhaled, pupils widening like camera lenses to little effect. It couldn't scan her... but oddly enough she couldn't scan _it_ either. "Eve." She reciprocated the smile, settling back into a more casual, 'human' stance. "What can you tell me about the bodies, Connor? I noticed you had little trouble looking them over." She chose her words carefully, lips falling open as she processed each phrase. "Is that part of your programming?" She readied her decoy notebook and pen.

"Yes," It gave a small nod, LED spinning yellow as it seemed to take in every detail of Eve's face. It blinked excessively, struggling in its repeated attempts at an assessment of her identity. No doubt, had Kamski enabled it to detect anything past her inherent cloaking technology, it would have been able to uncover her true nature off the bat. It was dangerous to be this close to something that could so easily dismantle you, had it reason to, though evidently this thought was lost on her. After all, she wasn't a deviant; she wasn't _prey,_ and even in the crosshairs of the hunter she felt no fear. She felt nothing, frankly.

"I am an RK800 prototype model, capable of high-grade military combat and investigative tactics." Eve noticed it fall into humanlike mannerisms as it explained, its head tilting slightly, a lock of synthetic hair falling over its forehead. It was undoubtedly designed to appear trustworthy to the human mind and had facial features that were overtly soft in nature, with brown eyes that were almost... gentle? Odd. "Per your inquiry, I am equipped with the ability to scan and reconstruct past events using the evidence that is available," Its voice piqued interest and carried a warm, unassuming tone. "and I even have a social protocol, which you've clearly noticed." A wink, followed by that rapid blinking again. Eve's eyebrows furrowed.

"Where the _fuck_ is that negotiator?" The SWAT captain, on his last straw, broke the atmosphere between the two like an arm. The detective android, _Connor,_ straightened itself at the first sign of urgency, wordlessly refocusing its energy on the task at hand. It didn't waste any goodbyes on the false-journalist, strict in its obedience, instead returning with long strides to examine the dead officer lying in the center of the room. Eve scurried back into the shadows and out of the captain's warpath, though he set his sights on her the moment she made any sudden movements.

"You're obviously not one of mine;" he sneered impatiently as he approached, "Are you authorized?"

_"I am."_ Eve insisted, standing tall and nearly as forthright. "Eve Turing with _Detroit Today. _I've already been cleared." He looked her over, assessing a final judgement, though she attempted to null his suspicions with mirrored impatience. "Exactly how many more times do I have to answer?"

"None," The captain, _'Captain Allen,'_ she noted, puffed indignantly. "Your name's on the list." He crossed his arms over his chest and gestured with a nod towards Connor, his demeanor relaxing substantially. "Just, stay out of its way. This is a high-priority case, and things are about to get hairier." Technically, Connor had approached _her,_ not the other way around. She didn't dare argue that fact, though, instead dismissing herself from the conversation with a submissive nod. Captain Allen promptly turned on his heel and returned to his team, likely deliberating over a backup plan in the master bedroom.

Across the room, Connor crouched low. Eve stepped forward despite the captain's warning, stooping to better capture the android's actions. The detective reached forward, retrieving the deceased officer's pistol. It was against the law for androids to possess any form of weaponry, as Eve had been programmed to acknowledge-watching Connor holster the gun in its back pocket caused a stir in her. Was it still a crime if used to further the mission? In Connor's mind, apparently not. It _had_ said that it was trained with military combat tactics...

_'Fascinating,' _She shut her eyes tightly to the sensation that abruptly overcame her, standing upright as she felt as though someone were digging around in her head with a fork. Kamski's commentary moved through her mind as though they were her own thoughts, yet still clearly foreign to her processing. _'It didn't even hesitate.'_

When she blinked her eyes open again Connor was poised to exit onto the terrace. The detective slid the door open and she scrambled to frame the oncoming scenario, ignorant to members of SWAT who voiced their concerns for her safety. She perched herself at the shattered window as the primary event commenced.

A fair-haired android stood at the opposite end of the terrace, a PL600 of domestic function with a small human girl in its grasp-the deviant and the daughter taken hostage. Somehow the previous descriptions hadn't done the actual visual much justice. Things became real as soon as the situation had presented itself before Eve's eyes. The girl squealed, deviant gruffly murmuring under its breath. A shot ripped through the atmosphere as Connor entered onto the scene, the bullet making impact with its clothed shoulder, spattering blue blood and rendering its wounded arm exposed and sparking.

"Hi, Daniel!" It shouted, much to the dismay of the offending android. "My name is Connor!" A SWAT helicopter flew to hover ominously over the scene, the wind from its blades tugging aggressively on Connor's suit jacket.

"How- how do you know my name?" Shock evident in its tone, the deviant's expression quickly twitched into unadulterated anger. It was hard for Eve to comprehend the emotion that struck its synthetic skin so easily, as though what it was feeling were more than simulation, bearing deeper roots than its superficial make.

Connor started forward, slow in its steps. Calculated, monitoring Daniel's rising ire. "I know a lot of things about you; I've come to get you out of this!" Pool furniture having been flung across the terrace in the all-encompassing gale, Connor reached to push a chair out of the way as it continued. "I'm an android, just like you." The detective-turned-negotiator pleaded despite steadily worsening conditions, "I know how you're feeling!"

"What difference does it make if you're an android?" Sneered the deviant with little regard to Connor's shallow empathy, "You're on _their_ side! You _can't_ understand how I'm feeling!" Daniel growled frustratedly and the hostage frantically screamed. "Are you armed?" The deviant spat, one arm clinging to the squirming child with a death-grip, the other pointing a pistol at Connor with potentially fatal aim.

"No!" Came the instant lie. "I don't have a gun!" Eve held onto the windowsill with bated breath, eyes wide. Connor was especially brazen, approaching a highly unlikely situation and directly working to increase its chance of success. It was particularly breathtaking and nonetheless unprecedented.

Daniel called Connor's bluff, though the detective's resolve remained unshaken. "You're lying! I _know_ you have a gun!" A tango with ultraviolence; it was ironic that the one who'd committed the crime would appear more frightened than that of its foil.

"I'm telling you the truth, Daniel, I came here unarmed!" Another bold-faced lie in the face of clear opposition.

A wounded officer lay dying in a red pool of his own blood, barely conscious. Connor set its sights on the man, multitasking. "They were going to replace you and you became upset. That's what happened, right?"

Eve blinked as the deviant seemed to momentarily withdraw its guard, somehow affected by Connor's words. "I thought I was part of the family. I thought I mattered..." It snapped suddenly, firing up into chaos once more. It shook the gun in its hand exasperatedly, the child along with it. "But I was just their _toy,_ something to throw away when you're done with it!"

Steps away from the dying man, Connor poked at Daniel's nerve with a fine tool. "I know you and Emma were very close. You think she betrayed you, but she's done nothing wrong!"

**"SHE LIED TO ME!" **Daniel roared, "I thought she _loved_ me... But I was wrong. She's just like all the other _humans!"_

The young girl in its hold, 'Emma,' wept openly. "Daniel, _no..."_

Connor's attention drifted from the dying man to the erratic deviant. It kneeled to address the wound that Daniel had caused-a bullet through the arm, the injury oozing blood onto concrete at an alarming rate. It was a wonder the officer hadn't already fainted from the trauma or faded altogether. "He's losing blood," Connor stated, expression vague. "If we don't get him to a hospital, he's going to _die."_

"All humans die eventually!" Daniel exclaimed with disdain and utter lack of sympathy, "What does it matter if this one dies _now?"_

The detective's lip twitched as conflicting orders flitted across its vision. "I'm going to apply a tourniquet," It said finally, moving to assess the officer's punctured arm. Daniel fired a warning shot, the bullet shooting sparks from where it crashed into the ground near Connor's kneeled position.

_"Don't touch him!"_ The deviant ordered, "Touch him and I kill you!"

The threat was palpable enough. The PL600 had already murdered three people; Emma's father, and two first responders: one lying cold in the dining room, the other afloat, facedown in the terrace pool. Had attempted to murder a fourth, the officer under Connor's attention, and a fifth, the small girl helpless in his arm. Connor, however, was not a 'person' in that regard; solely by the given definition of being an android had it forfeited any right to individual importance.

"You _can't_ kill me," Connor barked, quickly untying its tie and wrapping the wound tight. _"I'm not alive." _Daniel expelled a breath of frustration as the detective stood to its feet and resumed its careful approach. "Listen," It started, "I know it's not your fault." A pause, followed by a further move for sympathy. "These _emotions_ you're feeling are just _errors_ in your software!"

"No, it's not my fault... I never wanted this... I _loved_ them, you know?" Daniel was selfish, shaken again by Connor's prodding and eagerly responsive with a volatile demeanor. "-But I was _nothing_ to them!" It argued, still pushing back. "Just a _slave_ to be ordered around!"

_'Loved'_ them... A _'slave'..._ Eve's lips puckered in silent contemplation.

"I can't stand that noise anymore!" The deviant suddenly yelled, "Tell that helicopter to get out of here!"

Connor moved to optimal distance then did as asked, waving the helicopter away from the scene. "There," The terrace calmed as the windstorm slowly died. "I did what you wanted." Even as the negotiator acted in favor of Daniel, the deviant proved unsatisfied. Connor had reached the threshold, and the night was on its last leg.

"You have to trust me, Daniel!" It begged upon selective ears, "Let the hostage go and I promise you, everything will be fine!"

Daniel's pupils shook as retroactive weakness took hold. "I want everyone to leave... And I want a car! When I'm outside the city, I'll let her go!" With the gun to Emma's head, it switched objectives, attempting to bargain in the face of looming destruction. Striking a deal with the devil for the sake of self-preservation, a remarkably humanlike mistake.

With so many sins, what was there left to save? Connor's lips pursed into the fine line that kept the deviant away from its stained freedom. "That's impossible, Daniel." Justice to be served. It spoke logically, "Let the girl go and I promise, you won't be hurt."

"I don't want to die..."

"You're not _going_ to die." It was almost laughable, the pile of lies that had built up to this point. "We're just going to talk. Nothing will happen to you. You have my word." The word of a being comprised of wires and synthetic skin, a mind made of mathematical equations and social protocol, of programming for the purpose of deviant suppression. The word of a deviant _hunter._ An untrustworthy, nonempathetic, inhuman being with no ounce of rank to live up to its own promise of credibility.

Hesitation. An atmosphere riddled with the pungent mixture of death, chlorine, and gunpowder. A final problem waiting to be solved.

"I've spent my life taking orders..." Daniel lowered the gun, its free arm opening wide as it had inevitably surrendered to its fate, intending to take its hostage along with it as its shoes hit the edge. "...Now, it's _my_ turn to decide."

Time slowed as the PL600 careened backward over the cityscape below. Emma's scream tore across the terrace, body struggling for purchase as gravity increased. Connor sprung into action, shedding its patience to meet Daniel's desperate act with its own. Eve gasped for air as the detective leapt for the girl, gliding forward to collide with the deviant and pulling Emma to safety in one fell swoop.

The two androids tumbled over the side and out of view as Eve left the scene with numbed haste.


End file.
